


The Field

by Buttons15



Series: Overwatch Hogwarts AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Overwatch/Hogwarts AU series. In which Slytherin Amélie and Gryffindor Lena have a problem they cannot quite solve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Field

When fifth-year Amélie Lacroix turned the corner and spotted the Gryffindor quidditch players in the distance, she was quick to take three steps back and recalculate her route to the Slytherin common room. Backtracking her path, she took the moving stairways down twice instead of only once; the corridor that took her across the castle only existed on the third floor, which meant she would have to go all the way around to reach the dungeons, but at least she wouldn’t have to –

From the space between the staircases, someone literally fell from the floor above, crashing in ahead of her, blocking her path. The sheer randomness of it should have startled her, yet the Slytherin did nothing more than blink at the impact. She watched, impassive, as the bundle of red robes stood up and dusted herself, revealing a cursing seeker.

_ Of course. _

“Hello, Tracer,” she greeted in a perfect monotone, as if the other hadn’t just jumped down a floor.

“Hello yourself,” Lena spat, adjusting her clothes, combing her messy hair with her fingers. “What is  _ wrong _ with you, Amélie?! Why are you avoiding me like I got the plague or something?!”

She inhaled, pulling her emotional walls up, clutching her books a bit closer to her chest. “I’m not –”

“Stop – just, just stop bullshitting me!” the Gryffindor raised her voice. “You saw me, and you deliberately took the long path to – aghh!” she slammed her fist against the wall, frustrated, then raised her head and met Amélie’s eyes. “Just what is going on?! Please, I just want to help –”

The words were like knives to her heart, and she bit her inner cheek until she could taste the metallic tang of blood. She steeled her spirit for what came next and told herself it was for the best. “There’s nothing going on, and if there was, I certainly wouldn’t ask a Gryffindor –”

“Shut up!” Lena, now yelling. “Do you even listen to yourself, Amélie? House rivalries? Seriously? You were –” she stopped, stuttered, her voice hoarse. “ – you were my first friend. My  _ best _ friend. You promised me, when you moved away, that you wouldn’t let distance tear us apart, and – and you didn’t.” there were tears rolling down her cheeks, and the Slytherin felt as if something was stuck down her throat.

“And I was so happy to know we’d study together at Hogwarts and even when we got sorted into different houses I – I –”  she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I never once thought it would change what we had. But now each ear you come back and you are more and more distant and secluded and the only explanation you have to me is –  _ house rivalries?! _ ”

Lena looked at her, eyes rimmed red, her face twisted with pain and despair, begging for an answer, any explanation whatsoever, something, anything. The Slytherin gave her nothing but silence, looking away. The Gryffindor waited for almost a full minute before shaking her head with disbelief and storming off without any further words.

Amélie stood rooted to the spot for many moments after the other had left, waiting for the tears to come. She resumed her way back to the dormitories when once again, none did.

* * *

 

 

She had never been a very talkative person, even before – before  _ things  _ started going wrong in her life – and so she was deeply grateful when the teacher picked Angela Ziegler, introspective Hufflepuff and genius, as her potions partner. Working with Angela was easy; she was polite but didn’t insist on small talk, and she always knew what to do, which was comforting even though Amélie wasn’t a bad student herself.

“It was good to work with you once again, Amélie,” the blonde announced as they packed their books. The Slytherin replied with a nod, already used to her partner’s courtesy. And then, something unexpected:

“Do you mind if I sit with you for lunch today?”

As a matter of fact, she  _ did _ mind. She was not usually in the mood for socialization, particularly when she had other things in mind, like maintaining basic functions such as eating. Still, denying the request would not only make her sound unnecessarily rude with a person who was always so kind, it could also create a conflict with the one who would be her partner for at least another four months, something she most definitely did not need. 

“It's okay,” she answered, unenthusiastically, hoping that Angela would take the hint. She didn't, and they ended up sitting together. Oddly enough, the blonde didn't try to break the silence or start a conversation; they just ate quietly and once the meal was over, the Hufflepuff bade her farewell and went her merry way. 

That peculiar behavior repeated itself for the three next weeks, until Amélie decided enough was enough.

“What are you trying to achieve with this?” she spoke up out of the blue when she saw Angela finish her lunch and put the fork away. Her own plate was still only half empty, yet she felt unable to stomach another pea.

“Nothing.” The blonde picked up a napkin and wiped her lips with it. “I'm just...here.”

“Just here,” she echoed. She poked the food with her fork absently, then reached for the pumpkin juice instead,  because liquids were easier to stay down. “Did Tracer put you up for this? Because I don’t need your...pity company or...whatever.” 

Angela's lips quirked in a smile, but she offered no answers. Amélie would have found that infuriating, if only she could feel anything. As it was, she only stared blankly at the other, giving up on lunch altogether.

After a moment, the Hufflepuff finished her drink and stood up, grabbing her backpack. “See you next week?”

“Whatever,” she repeated, but her potions partner was already far away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She was eating just  _ fine _ when it came - the midday demon, as she had started calling it. It began as a tightness in her chest that seemed to grow and squeeze, blocking her throat, suffocating her; she felt out of air even though her lungs were full. She couldn’t put a name in this feeling, for it wasn’t quite an emotion as much as it was the absence of them all. She wanted to cry or to scream, because she felt dead inside and none could see it.

Her appetite went away as if her stomach had been punched, and the food in front of her suddenly made her nauseous. 

Amélie dropped her fork. She hadn’t made it through a quarter of the plate this time, and goddamn it, she had been hungry.

On the opposite end of the table, Angela tilted her head, but didn’t speak. The Slytherin ignored her altogether, focusing on her lunch as if the universe revolved around it.

_ I want to die,  _ she thought, and then gritted her teeth and picked her eating utensil back up. It was herculean effort to bring a mouthful in, and when she did, it tasted like cardboard. 

_ Why do I even bother? _

Chewing, chewing, swallow. Another portion. She told herself that if she could only stop having those thoughts, then this void inside her would definitely go away; she told herself that it was all in her head and there was nothing wrong with the food or with her body, and there were others who would love to be on her place, but when she blinked, she saw flashes of green spells being fired, and when she closed her eyes at night, the sickening thumping of lifeless bodies hitting earth kept her up until sunrise.

The lives  _ she’d _ taken.

The curses  _ she’d  _ cast.

The people  _ she’d _ killed.

_ I deserve this. _

She dropped the fork again, this time for good. And then, before she could stop herself, she blurted:

“You work the hospital wing, don’t you?”

The blonde met her gaze with the gentlest of smiles. “Indeed. Feeling anything that has been bothering you lately?”

_ Would she smile like that if she knew? _

Amélie scoffed, then hesitated for a moment before speaking.  “It’s.. nothing. Probably nothing. It’s not important.”

Angela tucked a lock of hair below her ear and extended her hand, just enough that her index finger brushed her partner’s. The contact felt alien to her, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s not unimportant if it’s making you suffer, Amélie.” A pause. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The Slytherin thought very carefully about that question. “I don’t know. I don’t think you can help. I’ve...done my research on it, you know.” she smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “There’s pretty much nothing about it on that library you live in.”

The Hufflepuff’s eyes twinkled. If she was offended with the insinuation that she was a book rat, she did not show. 

“Perhaps. Perhaps you just didn’t know where to look. And perhaps...there might have been something on it on the  _ other _ libraries I live in. Either way… try smaller, more frequent meals,” she suggested, staring at the barely touched food.

“Hm. Thanks.”

“Tell you what,” Angela stood. “Let’s eat together again tomorrow - outside. How’s that sound?”

Amélie frowned. “Impractical. Probably uncomfortable.”

“Good! See you at the main hall on midday?”

Her only answer was a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

They were sitting under a large tree, the sun too bright, her food too cold, the grass too itchy and another million things Amélie found unpleasant. She was unable to finish her lunch again, but Angela had brought a chocolate and the Slytherin was having that instead. The blonde was currently eating the second half of a healthy-looking sandwich.

“I just -”  She began, and Hufflepuff turned to her, putting her snack away. “I just - can’t - feel anything.” She raised her eyes to meet Angela’s blue ones, expecting something - skepticism, disbelief. She found only rapt attention, and somehow, that was the last straw she needed to blurt it all out. “I don’t know how to put it into words. There’s just  _ nothing _ , yet I want to cry anyway. Sometimes this, this void, it gets so heavy I can’t get off bed, I can’t eat, I can’t -”

“It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” The blonde rested her hand on top of the Slytherin’s. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “We can stop here, if you want. Or I can press you with some questions. It’s up to you.”

“Go on.”

“Can you tell when this began, or why? Some kind of trigger, a stressful event; You don’t have to tell me, just think about it.”

Flashes of green.  _ Avada-fucking-kedavra  _ and other messier, slower forms of death. Secret meetings in the dead of night. Pacts in blood and dark magic. 

“Yes.” Amélie brought her knees close to her chest and hugged them. “Sometimes I’m...forced to do things. Forced to take part in things… things I don’t want to. Bad things. Things that are punishable by more than expulsion.”

The blonde frowned and sat up straight. “Do you feel like you can tell me more?”

The Slytherin hesitated. “I… there are bad people in this world, Angela. And I suppose...I am one of them. At first, I resisted, I...” she stopped, the words stuck on her throat, and looked at the other, searching for signs of judgment. 

Had she seen any displays of horror or even pity, she would have stopped right then, yet once more, Angela seemed nothing other than interested. As someone who described herself as having no feelings, Amélie was actually a little bit impressed at that level of professionalism.

“...I resisted.” she repeated. “And I was severely punished by it. On the first day, there was pain. On the second, on the third, on the fourth and fifth and sixth...and yet I refused to - to -” she looked away. “On the seventh day, when the curse hit me, there was… nothing. Nothing, and I thought then that either I was dead or I was finally free.” 

Finally, a dampness on her cheeks. 

_ Finally. _

“ - and then I realized that I couldn’t feel anything else, either. Joke was on me though, because with the pleasure and the happiness and the hope gone, I -”  her shoulders were shaking, and she found herself on the verge of sobs. “I couldn’t resist -” she opened her palm and walked the opposite index and middle fingers on top of it. “ - the imperius curse.”

Saying it out loud seemed to make it more real, and she covered her face with her hands, overwhelmed, trembling. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see the blonde offer her a box of tissues. The bizarreness of the situation struck her then, and she almost burst into hysterical laughter.

“Perhaps it would be better to continue this later -”

“No,” she interjected. “Let me finish this here and now. The killing curse, you can’t - you just can’t cast it - it’s not simple.” She took a deep breath. “You have to really want someone dead, and if you don’t have it in you, no Imperius can make it. So if you’re ordered to -” she clenched her fists. “- to kill, it has to be through less...clean...methods. With those hands, with those bare hands -”

“Do you ever blame yourself?” Angela interrupted abruptly.

“No - yes.” Amélie bit her bottom lip. “There should have been...something. Guilt. Remorse. Regret. Instead I get nothing, nothing except… except the pain. It still comes, but doesn’t need any curse to summon it. It feels like...” she trailed off, thinking. “You know when you think about your favorite song, and you hear it, not in your ears but in your head? Or when I tell you to imagine something and you see it with your mind but not with the eyes?”

“Aha.”

“It’s like that. It’s not in my body, but it’s there, and it’s real, and - and it can be so overwhelming I can’t eat or think or even stand. It can be so overwhelming, I faint from it.” The Slytherin hesitated. “It sounds crazy, I know.”

“Not at all.” Angela raised her head and looked up at the sky. “For how long has this been going on?”

“Two years.”

“And for how long have you  _ seen _ those things happen?”

“...Five.”

The blonde sighed - the first display of emotion since they had started talking - and looked at her, pensive. For the first time, Amélie thought about the consequences of speaking about what had happened, the risks of saying those things out loud. “I don’t expect you to be able to solve my problems,” she began, but the Hufflepuff raised her palm.

“I can help.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think I would like your butting in-”

“Shhh,” Angela chided. “My turn now. Let me finish. I can help,” she crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I can intervene. Not in your life, but in you. There are things… things that can be done. Habits you can create. Medication you can take. Things that will make you feel again, and help you find the strength to change this situation - to move out, or to call the aurors, or solve it however else you see fit.”

“Medication?” she pressed. “How come I haven’t read anything on it - except, huh, alleged cases of demonic possession and other unrealities.”

“It’s not a magical disease,” Angela clarified, interlacing the fingers of her hands and stretching her arms.

“A muggle disease?”

“A human disease,” the Hufflepuff corrected. “A condition of the mind.” She paused. “I’m not going to lie to you, Amélie. What you’re telling me, it won’t be remotely easy to overcome. Things will get much, much worse before they get any better. What you have, it’s like - like an anchor, holding you down on the bottom of a river. It’s making you drown, but also keeping you still. Once it’s gone, well, you’ll still be fighting against the current, and you’ll still have to learn how to swim. You’ll sink a lot before that, you’ll go up and down over and over and have to make do with little gasps of air.”

“Sounds like a neat metaphor for something horrible,” Amélie muttered.

Angela’s lips turned in a sad half smile. “It is. But it’ll get better, and you’ll learn life is worth it. I promise you that. So, are you up for it?”

_ Nothing left to lose. _

“Yes.”

The blonde extended her hand, and the Slytherin tilted her head, amused, then they shook on it. Angela stood up, dusted herself and crossed her arms, looking at the horizon.

“There are people I’ll have to contact...probably I’ll have to sneak you out of Hogwarts at some point… And you’ll have to talk about it, eventually. Not necessarily to me, mind you, but to  _ someone _ .” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t matter. For now, there are things I need you to do. Simple things, really. Exercising. Eating better. Going to bed at the same time every day. And, yes, interacting with people more...you were right, by the way. It was Lena’s idea on first place.”

“Of course. I -” Amélie wrapped one arm around the other, hugging herself. “I can’t stand to be near her. I can’t. To be so close to someone you love, and yet feel so unable to share and to connect - it hurts too much.”

Smiling, the Hufflepuff extended her hand to help her up and Amélie took it.

“I happen to know just the thing for that...”

* * *

Amélie was waiting on the edge of the quidditch field, hopping from foot to foot, feeling deeply uneasy. Ideally, she’d get there and apologize and make up with her Gryffindor friend, but since things hardly ever took the best outcome, she had a backup plan ready -

“Amélie?” Lena’s eyes widened in recognition, and she approached, hopping off her broom a few steps away. The Slytherin saw a whole specter of feelings cross her friend’s face - surprise, then joy, then anger. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

_ Well that started off with the right foot. _

“I just wanted to say...” she exhaled. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” the other repeated, incredulous. “...That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she snapped back, gritting her teeth. Lena took a step closer, so that they were less than a foot away. She took a little pride on the fact that she towered over the Gryffindor by at least five centimeters.

“No explanations. No nothing. Just words, and you expect me to believe -”

“You know what,” she interrupted, “Why don’t we just settle this next sunday on the field instead? Get out of it, by the way - I’ve booked the next three hours.”

_ Angela seemed a hundred percent sure this would work even though I don’t see how - _

“On the field?  _ On the field?  _ What the fuck do you mean -” Lena stopped herself, frowned, and looked at Amélie from head to toe for the first time, taking in the green uniform and the broom strapped to her back, realization striking her and making her gape. “ - you. Quidditch. You are playing? I can’t believe it - the new Slytherin seeker. You.  _ You. _ ”

“Excuse me, I take offense to that,” she snarled.

Lena grabbed her by the collar abruptly, yanking her forward hard enough that they almost bumped foreheads, until they were so close their noses touched. They held one another’s gaze for a moment, the tension in the air shifting to something different that Amélie could not quite name.

“Well I guess you’ll just have to take your offense _to the field,_ ” The Gryffindor hissed, and she could feel the other’s warm breath brush her lips.

“I’ll take great pleasure in dethroning you, ‘most promising player of the school’,” She ironized.

“You’ve got some  _ fucking nerve - _ ” the Gryffindor hit both her palms on Amélie’s shoulder, making her stumble back -

And then closed the distance between the two again, slamming their lips together in a single rough movement, hands sliding over Amélie’s nape, leaving nail marks as they did. The Slytherin was aware of her hair being tugged, of her hands gliding almost on her own over the other’s hips, of her biting and being bit, of a tongue parting her lips open -

They pulled apart just as suddenly as they had been brought together, and she a saw flushed Lena straighten up her clothes and give her a glare that could just as easily be one of desire or one of hatred.

“ _ To the field, _ ” the Gryffindor repeated before storming off, aggressively bumping on the Slytherin on the way.

Amélie stood there for a full minute, hearing her own heart thump and trying to process a bundle of emotions she could not name, let alone understand. And then she closed her eyes and smiled, because they were alien but they were  _ there _ , and because finally, after what felt like eternity, she had something to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers: Amélie catches the snitch but Gryffindor still wins the game because of a last-second goal by Pharah. She and Lena have a heated argument under one of the field tower that ends into aggressive making out because that's how they always (don't) sort out their problems


End file.
